Ghosts

by Antane

A summer’s day in the Shire, 1418....

“Do you believe in ghosts, Sam?”

The young gardener looked up in surprise from the picnic lunch he was sharing with his master. Frodo was looking off into the distance, his eyes focused on Sam knew not what, perhaps something visible only to his friend. The younger hobbit knew that look well from earlier years when as a child, Sam would read to his friend and Frodo would listen with a smile on his face and a happy, distant look to his eyes as though he was actually watching what was unfolding as opposed to merely hearing it. Sam loved to watch him look like that, but Frodo wasn’t smiling this time. Sam had watched more than a little worriedly for some weeks now as his master had become more quiet, as though thinking hard about something that was bothering him. The young gardener had wanted to ask, but always stopped himself as he wondered whether it was really his place to do so. Now amidst the mushroom salad that lay forgotten in Frodo’s lap and the apple cider noticed only by the bees, Sam thought he might get his answer. He swatted at one of the bees, then said in reply, “No, Mr. Frodo, I don’t.”

Frodo continued to look off and Sam wondered again at what he was seeing. “I didn’t use to either,” the elder hobbit said, “but now I don’t know. I’ve been having strange dreams recently and sometimes after them, I actually feel like there’s someone in the room with me.”

Sam shivered despite the warm day. “Maybe you’re just hearing things that you wouldn’t have if Mr. Bilbo were still around.”

“No, it’s not a noise. It feels like an actual presence.”

Frodo began to fiddle with something in his pocket and Sam looked at it worriedly. Mr. Bilbo used to do the same thing.

“Did it feel frightening?” the younger hobbit asked and was surprised when a small smile tugged at the edges of his master’s mouth.

“No, it’s actually comforting. I’ve felt it several times before in my life, like it was watching over me, protecting me. Last night was the strongest I’ve ever felt it.” Frodo’s voice trailed off for a moment before resuming. “I don’t know why, but I think it’s preparing me for something, Sam, that I’m not sure I want to do or am strong enough to do.” His voice dropped low. “I’m frightened actually of what it will ask of me.”

“What are your dreams like, Mr. Frodo?” Sam asked.

“They are the oddest I’ve ever had. There is a giant eye and lots of fire. Sometimes I can even feel the heat and I wake up sweating. Sometimes I can hear voices. It’s some sort of Elvish, I think, but I don’t understand it. Sometimes it feels like the eye is looking right at me and I feel so exposed. I try to get away, to hide, but I can’t. I don’t have the feeling it can see me, but I can certainly see it and I’m so afraid it’s going to find me and hurt me.” Frodo shook his head. “I know it doesn’t make any sense. Maybe I’m just inheriting Bilbo’s old title of Mad Baggins.”

Sam’s heart ached to hear the old pain in his beloved master’s voice. He fully shared Frodo’s dislike of that term and the teasing that had gone on about that eccentric hobbit. Mr. Bilbo never seemed bothered by it, would even jokingly use the term himself on occasion, but Sam knew Frodo had always been hurt to hear it and he had been as well, for himself as much as for his master. They loved that old hobbit, because they knew what was inside him, what the others didn’t know or care to know. The others only saw what was on the outside and if Mr. Bilbo sometimes purposly encouraged their myth and Sam and Frodo would wonder why, they still knew who that beloved hobbit really was that others didn’t.

Sam clutched Frodo’s hand. “Of course you’re not, Mr. Frodo,” Sam said, “but those dreams sound just awful. No wonder you’ve been looking like you haven’t slept right for a week, begging your pardon for saying so. I wish you have told me before. I could have made you some tea or stayed with you or something.”

Frodo smiled at the gentle reprimand. He had often felt that Sam believed his sole reason for being put on this earth was to take care of him and Frodo had always been touched by that, though he had never considered Sam his servant and wished that Sam would not feel that way himself, but he knew it wasn’t something he could easily convince his gardener and dearest friend of. He looked down at Sam’s fingers intertwined with his own, then up into that round face, so full of concern.

“I’ve already tried tea,” he said, “but the dreams are just getting worse. Then I wake and I feel that presence. It’s as though it’s there to comfort me and strengthen me for I don’t know what, but afterwards I can sleep again. It almost feels like its holding me like my parents used to when I had bad dreams.”

Sam looked a little relieved at that. “Then maybe that’s all it is. You’ve been thinking about them and you have this dream and naturally you remember them comforting you.”

Frodo shook his head and Sam frowned a little. “No, it’s a loving presence, but it doesn’t feel like I remember them. It’s something even stronger. I can’t explain it. I wish I could.”

He pulled his hand out of his pocket and stared at the gold Ring. “I have a feeling it’s all connected to this somehow. It’s been growing in my mind as the dreams have been getting worse.”

Sam looked nervously at the Ring. There was something not quite right about it, though he could not figure out what. He was glad when Frodo put it back into his pocket and sighed. “I wish Gandalf would come back. He’d know what to do.”

“That he would, Mr. Frodo, I’m sure,” Sam agreed. “Maybe he’d even explain about that presence you felt.”

“Maybe.” Frodo paused, then said softly, “I’m so small, Sam. What can I do? I just want to be a hobbit, nothing more. I don’t want to be...to do...” He trailed off, looking off once more into the distance.

Sam squeezed the hand he still held and Frodo turned his gaze back to his friend. “I don’t know what any of this means either, Mr. Frodo, but I know you will be strong enough to bear whatever lies ahead,” the gardener assured. “And I’ll be with you for whatever comes.”

Frodo saw in his friend’s eyes the love, devotion, quiet strength and commitment that had been his constant companions for nearly thirty years and in that moment, he knew Sam was right. He would be strong enough, but only because Sam would be with him. His fears quieted, though they did not cease entirely. He squeezed his friend’s hand. “Thank you, Sam.”

“Do you want me to stay with you tonight?” the younger hobbit asked.

Frodo smiled. He knew Sam would not sleep right himself if he didn’t know his master was. “Yes, Sam, I think a little company would be welcome, if you don’t mind. Thank you.”

Sam returned his master’s smile. “Then it’s settled.” He motioned to Frodo’s forgotten, half-finished lunch. “Now, you go and finish your salad, Mr. Frodo. The bees shouldn’t be the only ones enjoying it.”

Frodo laughed the full, rich laugh that Sam had always considered the most beautiful sound on earth. It reminded him of his mother’s. “Yes, Sam,” Frodo said and obediently dug his fork back into his salad.

The dinner they shared that night Sam filled with cheer as he did the smoke afterwards outside the front door of Bag End. It was late when Sam said good night to his master and went toward one of the spare bedrooms.

“Good night, Sam,” Frodo returned. “Thank you for staying tonight.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Frodo.”

The elder hobbit took the tea Sam had made him into his bedroom and set it carefully on the nightstand. He changed into his nightshirt, settled himself in bed, then sipped the tea slowly, silently hoping that the dreams would stay away. He read a little, then dropped off to sleep, the book still open on his chest.

In his dream, he stood on a vast, rocky plain, devoid of any life. In the distance, he saw a tower with a red light coming from the top of it, rotating slowly. Looking, he knew with increasing fright, for him. He cowered and tried to hide, but in that blasted plain there was no hiding place. I’m so small, Sam. But not so small that the eye could not find him. He felt its gaze pass toward him, then through him, as though a hot poker from the fireplace had pierced him. He struggled and distantly heard himself cry out, but there was no escape.

And suddenly he understand the voice he had never been able to before. “You cannot hide! I see you! There is no life in the void...only death...”

Then Frodo felt himself lifted up and moving toward the eye, closer and closer, faster and faster. That burning orb filled more and more of his vision until it came his entire world. He moaned and thrashed in his sleep, trying to escape, but it was useless. Then he passed through the center of the eye and was absorbed into it. It became him and he became it.

Frodo woke screaming, nearly right into Sam’s ear. The younger hobbit had rushed in when he heard his master cry out the first time. He put down his hastily kindled lamp and placed it beside the bed out of reach of Frodo’s thrashing limbs. He clutched both of his friend’s hands and tried to calm his trembling as well as his own.

“Did you see it, Sam?!” Frodo asked in a hysterical voice, staring into his friend’s eyes and clutching Sam’s hands tightly enough to hurt. The younger hobbit barely noticed. “Did you see the eye?! Burning me, consuming me. If this keeps up, there’ll be nothing left of me. Nothing!”

Sam fought to keep his voice level. “No, Mr. Frodo, I didn’t. You were dreaming again. Just a dream. It’s over now. It can’t hurt you anymore.”

Sam kept speaking until he saw the wild, hunted look leave his master’s eyes. Frodo let go of Sam’s hands and suddenly threw himself into his friend’s arms, listening to Sam’s steady heartbeat and feeling it calm his own racing one. “Oh, Sam, it was so real, so terrible. I don’t know what it all means, but it’s watching me, it’s going to find me, I...”

Sam held his master gently but firmly. “Shhh now, Mr. Frodo, shhh,” he soothed. “I’m watching you too. It’s going to have to get past me first if it wants to hurt you and you know that’s not going to be happen.”

He waited until Frodo’s breathing had calmed until he spoke again. “Did you feel that other presence again?”

“No, not tonight. Maybe because you were here, it didn’t need to be.”

Sam wasn’t sure what to make of that. “I’ll stay here with you the rest of the night,” he said.

“Thank you, Sam,” Frodo said.

He let Sam go and laid back down into bed. Sam pulled his master’s blankets up to Frodo’s chin, then snuffed the lamp, settled into a chair at his master’s bedside and took Frodo’s hand.

“Good night, Sam,” the elder hobbit said as he wrapped his fingers around his friend’s. “I’m glad you’re with me.”

“Good night, Mr. Frodo. I don’t ever plan to be anywhere else.”